


Carolina in the Morning

by autisticblueteam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Autistic Character, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticblueteam/pseuds/autisticblueteam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now York’s no expert, but he figures that training into the early hours multiple times a week isn’t exactly the healthiest thing someone can do. And seeing as this is the third time he’s caught Carolina this week, he figures giving her a little distraction is the least he can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carolina in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is literally 11 months old. I feel like I haven’t posted in ages and I just have this old thing lying around, so I figured I may as well post it! I did some tweaking, but otherwise this is all in its original, ‘gemma’s only been watching rvb for a couple months’ glory.

It’s late at night, and York is almost expecting the sight of Carolina on the training floor that greets him as he walks by. Well, he didn’t so much walk by considering he stopped still to watch her and approached the window moments later, but that was beside the point. Carolina was training late at night once again and this had to be the third time this week she’d done so, which wasn’t even accounting for the nights he didn’t wander the halls.

Usually he’d dare not interrupt her – Carolina wasn’t _exactly_ a woman you wanted to make angry. Even with all the pliability their closeness granted him he had figured out he had a max quota of three inflammatory actions a week, at the most. It was Friday and he’d already used his second, some silly remark he’d made in jest earlier that day that had earned him a glare that he was sure could have melted through his visor right through his good eye, buuut… he figured this was a worthy enough cause to use up his last.

Carolina had set the training floor to lockdown once she started her session, as she always did, but the security system on those doors was the weakest on the ship. For any low level thief it would barely provide a challenge, and seeing as York was a well-seasoned ex-con and a master at his craft (even if he _did_ say so himself) it was a piece of cake to get the doors open.

The aqua armoured freelancer didn’t even notice him approaching, a sure sign that she was already in too deep. As he walked closer she remained a colourful flurry of legs and arms, all shooting out towards targets and hitting each and every one with precision and ease. Green turned to red as mechanical beeps filled the room. He could tell just by watching her that she’d made an improvement yet again, but he knew that she wouldn’t get any closer to her goal. Not tonight.

In hindsight it was probably a mistake to just stroll right up to her like some kind of big man and grab her shoulder whilst she had her back to him, but hindsight makes everyone a genius and York is no exception. So he figured he probably deserved that fist to the nose (when was his poor face going to get a break? First that grenade, then Wash breaking his nose, and now Carolina too?) and the feeling of his feet leaving the floor as she grabbed him by the collar.

 _Yeah_. That was totally his own fault.

“W-Whoa, hey there ‘Lina, it’s just little ol’ me!” Then, as an afterthought: “You sure do have a good right hook on you, my poor nose can’t keep taking hits like that.”

He decided he also deserved to be dropped on the floor when he felt his back meet the metal beneath them, groaning a little in protest at the jolt of pain but otherwise accepting his fate. He didn’t so much expect the helmet that came flying towards him, but his reflexes were on his side this time and he caught it before it could hit him. His palms stung like a bitch, though, and he was sure he’d bent a finger the wrong way.

“You’re an insufferable idiot.”

“Oh don’t be like that,” He said, sitting up with a cheesy grin on his face, “Aren’t I even a sufferable idiot?”

The groan he got in response wasn’t really an answer, but his grin grew nonetheless.

“FILSS, reset,” She called out at the same time as she thrust a hand out to the other agent, “Once I deal with York here I _will_ be continue− _whoa_!”

York had taken the hand gladly, but he did more than simply pull himself up. Once he was on his feet again he had used his momentum to pull Carolina towards him, pressing her up to his chest with his free arm shifting to wrap around her waist. He was fully expecting another fist to the face in response to his brash manoeuvre, so the glare he got instead was a welcome surprise.

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing, Agent York?” Carolina asked with a tone somewhere between annoyance and amusement, leaning a _little_ more towards the former in York’s opinion. And he knew Carolina better than anyone else on the ship, so that opinion was worth listening to. At least he’d like to think it was.

“Saving you from yourself.”

A pause.

“Okay maybe that came out sounding a _little_ more melodramatic than I originally intended.”

“A little?” Carolina said, her eyebrow raised.

“Maybe more than a little.”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t need ‘saving’, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head back to my training.”

She moved to pull away, her back pushing against his arm and her hand tugging itself free from his own, but with a ‘nuh-uh!’ sound and a tug she was kept from moving. She gave York a look, which he was only too happy to return, and then sighed.

“York.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s after hours. No one’s around. Call me by my real name,” He said, raising a brow and giving his best smooth-guy grin.

“No, York. It’s against protocol.”

“Since when have I cared about protocol?”

Carolina rolled her eyes, bright green and tired and stubborn, “You may not, but I do. No personal names on the ship or on assignment. Now I’m not sure about you, but I don’t feel like we’re in the vacuum of space right now, so I’m pretty sure we’re still on the ship.”

Well, tired or not, she could give as good as he could, “Touché.”

“Now, _York_ , I would like to get back to my training.”

“And I’d like to be a millionaire living in some giant space mansion, but we can’t all get what we want now can we?” He retorted, and he heard the familiar quiet laugh escape from the woman’s lips. He released a chuckle of his own in return, his body casually beginning to sway and take her along for the ride.

“Touché,” Carolina mimicked, a smirk tugging at her lips. He was surprised to find she was matching his swaying motions, and whilst it was likely without realising he wasn’t going to complain, “Come on York.”

“Come on nothing,” His swaying gained momentum, one hand on the small of her back and the other still holding onto her armoured one, “It’s late at night, and you’ve been down here much too often this week.”

“I could say the same about you.”

York tapped his head with a finger, tugging her hand with his to do so, “I have an AI who doesn’t shut up in my head; _I_ have an excuse to be awake. You, on the other hand, do not.”

The swaying motion gained a rhythm, and neither agent resisted it at all. Carolina’s movements were lacked fluidity, her armoured form unable to achieve the same smooth movement as his civvy clad body, but they followed the same pattern. York could see her forming a retort in her head as they drifted back and forth, and sought to cut the attempts off with the soft press of his hand against her back to bring them closer together. He felt her jump at the gesture, and look up at him with what could almost be called a confused expression.

They swayed in silence for a minute or so, until York slowly raised the hand holding hers above them and she instinctively spun with the turning motion it performed. When he brought her back to him, this time with their interlinked limbs out at their sides, she tilted her head.

“What’s this, York?”

“I believe it’s called dancing,” York replied, his smug grin tugging at his scar as he increased their rhythm. If looks could kill the one Carolina gave him then would have erased him from existence, but she didn’t move away.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Oh but that’s one of my best qualities,” York said in a mock disappointed drawl, the ever growing grin breaking the façade and making Carolina laugh under her breath, “There we go.”

He spun her around under his arm again, and she gave him a look, “There we go _what_?”

“You’re relaxing,” He pulled her back to him again, as close as her armour would allow, “Not that I’m surprised. That’s just an effect I have on people.”

“Right, of course,” Carolina said, a smirk in her voice if not on her face, “I’m not sure that dancing is a good use of our time, York.”

“Eh, who cares,” He shrugged, moving them a little around the floor. She matched his back and forth steps effortlessly, not that he was surprised. Carolina was all efficiency and speed, and whilst her fast pace had no place in this moment she was able to pick up on what she needed to do with no trouble, “It’s three hundred hours, what better is there to do with our time? Besides training. Because that’s a very bad thing to do with your time at three hundred hours.”

“ _York_.”

“Just saying.”

Carolina’s eyes rolled again, but nevertheless she smiled and continued to respond to the slow motions of the lazy dance. After a while she even rested her head against the man’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around his back, letting out a deep sigh and closing her eyes slowly. When she began to hum, he knew he’d succeeded in what he’d came down here to do.

“Now isn’t this nice? Much _better_ than some tiring _training_ in the early _hours_ that’s just going to make you all _grumpy_ and _tired_ for tomorrow morning’s training, because you know we _do_ have scheduled training time, and–”

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”


End file.
